I heard the train moan tonight,
I usually miss it.
The lights, and rings
And electrical connections blind me
From the outside noise.
Such technology,
I am now amused that I heard the train moan tonight.

Floating object, held down by a string
Slips through a little lads grip
Bright, red through the sky
Only one tiny, concerned set of eyes follows
Through the chilled, windy air
Past the leaves and branches
Exchange of greetings, but continues on its way
The clouds surround, and hug the lone satellite
Shiny, eager to continue the ascension
Above this universe, looking down seeing only blue & green
Propelling through the stars; waving at each ray of light
New mass of bumpy white, quiet and inviting
The men in helmets kick away the scarlet traveler
Their flag is all that remains.

I’m running now as fast as I can
Can’t see anyone in view
The scope I can see is within a few feet
I’m choking and turning blue
Others are yelling but I cannot hear them
Is this world real or wax?
Out of control, spinning; no parachute
My disposition, no longer so lax
This free bird’s wings must be clipped soon
For she is not authorized to fly
Hitting every branch on the way down
Maturity, her next coat to try

Walking to the door
You don’t even look back
Or seem to have an unsure bone in your body
My arms grip your waist
As to pull you back into the fantasy we once had
The smiles, the sunshine,
The eye kisses, the interlocked appendages
Our hands were Siamese twins
Then snap of the fingers
The hypnotist was through with you
Middle of the night
I wake to legs not wrapped in another’s
Pillow without a head
Yet an indent lies
Where the head should be

Driving down the road
Leaves never looked better
Smile in my eyes,
As the windshield got wetter.
New England in fall
Backdrop of a movie scene
Precise brush stroke,
Laboratory selected gene.
Widespread area of colors in view,
Crimson and gold off set the sky of blue.

A walking contradiction
The cover doesn’t match the appendix nor the preface
But why stick to just what the connections of our neurons tell us?
We are smarter in this decade
To be more than,
More than a robot.
Left, left, spin
Down the street, flat feet
These Blinking lights, are just my eyes
Stomp and stare, no need for hair
Bang on this tin chest
An empty casing to infest
Take the grenade & pull the pin
Oh what a blessed thing!

Curtains closed,
drawstrings tightened
an obtuse mask
the exoskeleton to the soft, vulnerable viscera
crack it off
bit by bit
a fresh truth pours
like a waterfall of secrecy
deep in the jungles
toil & strain
to unveil the little flower
trapped in the onyx-tomb